It was sort of funny to me, in a fucked-up, not actually funny way, how one person’s death had driven so much change throughout the Carter family and the Reapers at large. Her death had caused Lane to go to a dark place for a year. Her death had caused her father, a local politician, to stop giving so much under-the-table support, leaving the Reapers somewhat grounded. Her death had caused me to vanish for some time. Her death had caused Angela to return to Springsville, where she and Lane were now dating.
One death.
Endless consequences.
Who would have thought? Not my father’s death. Not my mother’s death. Not the death of Lucius’ wife. But the death of Lane’s significant other.
Love made people do some fucking crazy things. Love was a beautiful force, but it also had a dark underbelly. Maybe I’d been too scorned and too jaded, but I saw love less as the thing that allowed people to find peace on Earth and bring about goodwill to humanity and more as the catalyst for the strongest side of their personality. Love could just as easily drive someone to hug an enemy and ask for forgiveness as it could compel someone to go on a murder spree in the name of their God, their spouse, or their kids.
Maybe it was best that I had avoided love all of this time. Maybe it was best that Lilly had gone her own way. Maybe it was best that I was without love; while I liked to think the strongest side of my personality was my openness, maybe it was actually my neediness.
A couple hours passed, and the movie ended. I didn’t see what had come on, but given the giant robots that appeared, I assumed it was some Transformers film. Now, I joked to myself, I had even less of a reason to watch the TV. It was six p.m. Maybe I just needed to head out now. Maybe I just needed to stop waiting for the perfect moment and just go.
I stood up from my couch and looked at my bag. It was all I was bringing. I was just going to stop paying my landlord, let him seize whatever was in here, and leave this life behind. Would it fuck up, say, my credit score? Probably. Would I—had I—ever cared? Nope.
Let’s go. You’ll get your sunset at some point.
And besides, you idiot, the sun sets in the west. You’re going to ride off away from it.
I snickered to myself. I’d tried so hard for perfection I’d never actually analyzed my plan with any care. I went over, grabbed my bag—
POW!
“What the fuck!”
I hit the floor as a gunshot fired from no more than fifty feet outside. It was close enough that it had to have taken place on apartment grounds.
And then a fucking Molotov cocktail broke through my window, lighting the carpet on fire.
“Shit!”
How the Fallen Saints had found my place, I had no idea. But they seemed intent on making sure that I would never get out of it alive. And all the while, I kept hearing gunfire outside my place.
This was terrible. Ashton had never seen a public gunfight like this before. My place, though not exactly the abode of the rich and famous, was also a relatively upscale place, the kind where you never expected to hear anything more than a rare, loud argument between couples.
And now, Ashton was never going to be the same.
I got low to the ground. I had a clear path to the door but walking outside unprepared right now seemed like a fatal choice. I had my gun on my hip, so I was guarded, but if there were multiple Saints…
And then a fucking gas bomb of some kind went off in my apartment, and I suddenly began to feel very lightheaded. Outside, I could hear the gunshots continuing, along with the screams of what sounded like Saints and... Reapers? Police?
It was getting impossible to say. My senses were dulling by the second. I had to get to safety, to fresh air.
The way to the door was blocked by gas and fire, and even if it wasn’t, it would be like walking straight into the line of fire. I turned to my bedroom and started crawling, but my body was already weakened from the combination of gas and smoke. I moved like a man under barbed wire, just trying like hell to get to his freedom. If I could just make it…
Rest... it sounded so good.
No, I had to keep going!
“Kill them!”
I had to... take a quick... crawl to the bedroom and... just sleep…
My will to fight faded. I groaned and knew I had to keep going, but I could barely keep my head up. I crawled blindly—for all I knew, I was moving toward a corner of the apartment.
“Fuck his bike! Get him!”
The cries sounded so familiar, but from where... from who…
